


Express Lane

by yuma (yuma_writes)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brothers, Family, Gen, Slice of Life, Stream of Consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:01:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29961312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuma_writes/pseuds/yuma
Summary: He felt out of place standing in line at the supermarket.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Kudos: 8





	Express Lane

**Author's Note:**

> Rummaging around my hard drive, I uncovered this fossil. Oh boy....
> 
> Originally published in _Brotherhood 2_ , 2007.

He felt out of place standing in line at the supermarket. 

He fidgeted and grumbled about the orange-haired crone all the way up front arguing with the _I'm just working because retirement sucks_ cashier about the ten cents’ difference of the low-fat cottage cheese. He glared at the Tropicana bitch, earning a poke from his brother's elbow, to which he responded with a hefty whack on the head with _Martha Stewart's Living’s_ spring cleaning issue. Hit Sasquatch so hard, the subscription postcards came flying out and the geriatric odd couple stopped arguing and stared. 

His brother groused behind him about having been raised by trolls and proceeded to ignore him by pretending to read the _Reader's Digest_ someone had shoved onto the shelf of random stuff people had tossed when they’d changed their minds. Staring at the open bag of old Valentine chocolates spilling over a leaking bottle of dew-scented fabric softener, he decided this must be the place where crap comes to die.

Too large of a space, too many choices. Enough that he’d stood there and argued halfheartedly with his brother over the value of getting the larger bag of Doritos instead of two smaller ones. He preferred the convenience stores and mini-marts that stood glaringly by the gas pumps on highways empty enough to qualify as part of the "scenic route." They offered most of what was needed, but in the sparse variety that was either take it or leave it, dead or alive, good or evil. Those choices he could handle. They didn’t require him to think past eeny and meeny, and screw the miney and mo because if he always had to decide between more than two options, it would be one option too many and one or both of the Winchesters would be dead. It wouldn't be much of a choice after that, and it made angsting over whether he wanted barbeque or ranch flavor kind of trivial. 

The cashier had had to bring the manager in, and the argument had evolved to questioning the freshness date of the pre-sliced turkey ham. Behind him, his brother sighed. He looked down at the cart. Did twenty canisters of non-iodized salt count as twenty, or could they be counted as one? He glanced over to the adjacent aisle. 

His brother, reading his mind, regretfully vetoed it; they couldn’t take the salt, chips, beer, and the economy-sized box of assorted Band-Aids to the express line. Besides, the woman in front of them with the six two-liters of Hi-C, four Hamburger Helpers, and the store brand vanilla wafers would probably beat them to the punch. She looked frazzled in her blue sweats, her blonde ponytail unraveling. She was only wearing one earring, and he wondered briefly if she forgot or maybe the supermarket had some poltergeist that took it. 

Muttering to himself, he opened up one of the Doritos bags and crunched on a triangle as Tropicana lady began waving her cane at the pimple-faced manager. He ignored the poke from his brother. It wasn't like they weren't going to pay for it. Correction: _Abe Fortas_ was paying for it, and this was really, really the last time he’d let his brother fill out the applications, because he’d run out of resigned District Court justices and was about to start on the dead ones next. 

As the argument rose, he plucked a few _Slim Jims_ from the racks and tossed them in with the rest of their stuff. A bag of sour candy followed from his brother. He rolled his eyes but didn't make him put them back. If his brother could stand him eating his smelly hickory-smoked Slim Jims, the very least he could do was let him have his gummy worms. He did, however, toss back the minty fresh strips with a low threatening growl that got nothing more than a snicker. His brother had thought it would be funny one time to offer him some, advising him they’d taste better if he took a few. The guy had doubled over on the bed with that damn cackling laugh when he began fanning his mouth, cursing. He thought it was hilarious, too, once he’d calmed down. So funny, he’d left partially melted marshmallows in his brother’s shoes. 

The line was finally moving, only to stall again when someone's canned creamed broccoli wouldn't scan. He shook his head and grabbed another Dorito, crunching it angrily in his mouth. 

He said nothing when a hand from behind grabbed a piece as well.

**Author's Note:**

>   
> Feedback is like cookies. I _like_ cookies! LOL.  
> 


End file.
